St. Andrews

120 W 44th St
New York, NY 10036
212-840-8413

The whole point of going to St. Andrews was to try the haggis. They serve it year round, but I thought it would be particularly appropriate to sample on Robert Burns Day, since it is a dish rather closely associated with his name. I had written down the fateful day—January 25—sometime last March, and lo, it finally came round.

A friend who had gamely agreed to come with sent me a tentative email: I think we should split the haggis. I don't want my own. I replied: Oh, God, I never had any intention of us eating our own. I'm sure it's gross.

It wasn't gross. It was exactly good, but I'd probably still choose a steaming plate of sheep offal over Brussels sprouts. It's presented nicely, sandwiched between a layer of neeps and tatties (turnips and potatoes to me and you) as you can see in the above photo. It didn't smell good, that's for sure and in that second I felt most of my nerve wilt away. But I took a bite, chewed a little, and offered this opinion: It's okay.

I took another bite, but didn't chew it, which meant I really only tasted root vegetable with a vague hint of meat. I told everyone at my table about my discovery and my friend said "You chewed it? You're never supposed to chew anything you're not sure of!"

Other than the haggis, the bar was tremendously packed, but the dining room in the back was pleasant enough. Our waitress, as Scottish as Groundskeeper Willie, was very nice and thanked us kindly for even attempting to eat haggis. For an entree, I had sea scallops, which were fine but not remarkable. The bread basket contained some kind of sweet, dense raisin roll that was really delicious.

Would I go back? Of course. But not for the haggis, Robert Burns be damned.

Grade: B